


for merely dreaming, we were snow

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve, keith's parents are away on vacation without him, pidge throws the littest parties fyi, rolo and nyma are siblings, shiro and keith are both adopted, shiro can't make it home oof, slowburn? what slowburn?, they're juniors in high school btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 01:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13136769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Believe me, darling: the stars were made for falling, like melting obelisks as tall as another realm."* * *Keith doesn’t celebrate Christmas.Lance wants to do something about it.





	for merely dreaming, we were snow

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "Dream Sweet in Sea Major" from Hawaii: Part II
> 
> * * *
> 
> here it is, klance christmas fluff no one asked for! :)
> 
> edit (1-24-18): i wrote this for my now ex gf for christmas a year ago and i thought abt taking it down but this is the longest thing i've ever actually finished lmao so it'll stay up. here's a rededication: to me.

_Hey I know that I barely know you but I kind of overheard you talking to that girl at lunch and saying you’ve never celebrated Christmas before, so do you wanna do something over break because I think that might be fun? If not it’s fine ☺︎ ~Lance_

Keith keeps rereading the blue ink on the index card and running his fingers over the creases where the paper was folded. He’s nearly memorized Lance’s handwriting from the times their history teacher tells the students to work with the person next to them. Keith’s mind flashes back to when the bell had rung last period: him hastily stuffing his work into his bag, Lance dropping the crumpled card on his desk as he walks by, all while the teacher is yelling something about the Civil War in the background. And when Keith had finally managed to make it out of the classroom and into the people-flooded hallway in possession of a flushed face and a cute-boy-who-just-so-happened-to-be-his-crush’s phone number, Lance was nowhere to be seen.

Keith doesn’t realize he’s in front of his house until he catches the bus driver’s squinted eyes glaring holes through him in the mirror. He scrambles to his feet, pocketing the note, and rushes past the old woman, mumbling “Have a nice Christmas” to her as he steps off. The cold air bites at his cheeks and nose, and wind dances its way across his face after the bus speeds away.

When Keith opens the front door, the heat from inside immediately warms his face. A sleek black cat pads up to him with curious eyes and meows quietly, tail swishing around like a charmed serpent. He bends down to pet her and scratches behind her ears while she tries to nuzzle his hand. He notices a note on the kitchen table and trudges over to read it.

_Working late today. See you in the morning. ♡ Mom & Dad_

He grunts angrily, wishing his parents didn’t have to keep working and working and they at least had a little bit of time to spare for him. At the same time, they always went somewhere warm over the last weeks of December, forgetting about their sons and leaving them to their grandparents, never knowing how it feels to celebrate Christmas with family. Of course, Shiro was away at medical school and couldn’t make it home for the holidays. Keith wished they’d bought another plane ticket for himself.

“C’mon, Leo,” he grunts, plucking the cat off the floor and carrying her down the hall and into his room. Keith sets her down on the bed and she meows, licking one of her paws and pawing behind her ear, cleaning herself. Keith sinks down into the plush comforter next to her, taking off his backpack and haphazardly tossing it into the corner to be forgotten until school returns.

“Why…” Keith says to himself, unable to finish his messy conglomeration of thoughts aloud. He swallows and starts again, gesturing lazily with his arms. “Why would Lance write that note? I mean, I’m just… it’s too good to be true; the guy I like might actually like me back. Like hell that’ll happen,” he murmurs to the glowy adhesive stars on the stark-white ceiling. Keith turns over to face a purring Leo and twirls her tail in between his fingers. “But it never hurt anyone to take a chance, did it?” Leo meows in response to his rhetoric ramblings.

Keith smiles, digging into his back pocket for his phone and the small paper that might as well be his Holy Grail and bane. He has the entire note etched into his brain, he realizes, as he opens his messages and taps the new message button. His fingers punch in the numbers for him, and it takes him a solid five minutes to type out a message that he’s satisfied with. Keith’s thumb hovers above the send button, shaking, until he closes his eyes and brings it down, sealing his fate.

_[Keith] Hey this is Keith. I got your note and sure, we can do something over break :)_

Keith finally lets his lungs deflate and he shuts the phone off, tossing it underhand so that it lands on his beanbag chair across the room.

Almost immediately after, it vibrates.

Keith’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and shock as he gets up from the bed, moseys over to the beanbag, and clicks the home button.

_[Shiro] Hey baby bro, I won’t be able to make it home for Christmas this year. Are you going over to Grandma and Grandpa’s?_

He exhales audibly through his nose, slightly angry at his brother for getting his hopes up, but also glad he didn’t get a speedy response from Lance. He takes a seat in the chair.

_[Keith] Idk maybe, I might just hang out at Pidge’s bc I think Gram and Gramp are sick of me_

_[Shiro] Okay, take care of yourself. Wear a hat and gloves when you go outside, drink water, and don’t run on icy sidewalks. Love you._

_[Keith] Yeah yeah I get it, love you too go do some doctor stuff_

Keith rolls his eyes at the screen, and it’s then that his phone vibrates and he gets the text he wanted.

_[Lance] ok phew i thought you didn’t see it lmao_

Keith’s face heats up in the blue light; it almost makes him feel nauseous. His stomach gets caught in his throat as he begins to tap out a response, but the bubble on the left side of the screen pops up.

_[Lance] tbh i was kinda nervous to give it to you_

_[Lance] anyway_

_[Lance] what do you wanna do??_

_[Lance] and why the fUCK don’t you celebrate christmas_

Keith lets out a giggle at Lance’s most recent message, thumbs clicking at the screen once again.

_[Keith] Well my parents go on vacation over the last weeks of December and I go to my grandparents’ house but they’re not really fun so :/_

_[Lance] ohh i gotchu. hey i’ll take you to a coffee shop tomorrow!! Ever been to balmera café??_

_[Keith] Yeah, I go there a lot actually_

_[Lance] aight it’s settled!_

_[Keith] Ok. I have to drop my parents off at the airport around 4am so I might be dead inside lol_

_[Lance] oof that sucks. AND THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS EVE WTF?? so what time do you want me to swing by??_

_[Keith] Yeah my parents are weird like that. And umm how about 3? I live on Altea Street_

_[Keith] It’ll be the yellow house with little evergreen trees by the road_

_[Lance] okay see you tomorrow!! :D_

Keith decides not to respond to him, but he clutches his phone to his chest and giggles to himself with closed lips, face warm and heart thumping wildly. Leo licks him, leaving a sandpapery sensation on his cheek.

Keith spends the rest of his evening switching between filling up pages upon pages of his sketchbooks with little doodles of Lance, Googling things like “How Not to Fuck Up a First Date”, and rereading the string of text messages that he and Lance had sent each other.

He falls asleep around eight, dreaming of the roaring oceans and flowing tides that Lance McClain’s eyes encapsulate.

-

It takes all of Keith’s willpower not to chew his fingernails down to stubs as he anticipates Lance’s arrival to his house.

He only begins biting the nail on his pinky when he sees a royal blue hatchback car turn into his driveway.

Keith stands up from the couch and dusts himself off, straightening his white beanie and combing his black hair with one hand. As he walks outside, he glances at the clock, silently thanking it for being a mere sound to listen to as the time passed by in minutes feeling like hours.

Keith opens the door to the passenger side of Lance’s car. “Hey man, what’s up?” Lance says, his chestnut hair moving as he looks at him, and Keith’s stomach throbs and somersaults. “H-Hi,” he stammers in reply and takes a seat. Lance’s car smells like peach, and Keith realizes that it’s probably the air freshener on one of the vents. He relaxes into the seat and exhales.

“Tired?” Lance says, backing out of the driveway. “Well, I mean, you must be, since you got up at early-as-fuck o’clock.”

He shrugs, chuckling at Lance’s phrasing of four in the morning. “Not really.” He turns his head to look out the window at the snowfall. “I mean, I dropped my parents off, came home, and tried to fall back to sleep, but I couldn’t. So a little bit.”

Keith can feel Lance’s eyes on his back as the latter addresses the former. “Where are your parents going?” he asks, turning the heat down.

He turns around to meet the corner of Lance’s eyes, immediately cursing himself as he does so. “Cuba,” he replies. “Varadero Beach.”

Lance perks up noticeably. “Really?!” he exclaims. “My abuelos live there, so we visit them a lot. My mamá broke her arm after slipping on some ice, so we decided not to make the trip this year.” Keith flusters himself almost as red as his parka when Lance turns his head to look at him. “They’re gonna have a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.” Keith slumps even further down into his seat.

Lance’s face turns grave. “Did I say something wrong? Sorry—“

“Nah, you’re fine. I just wish that…” Keith clenches his black-gloved fists. “That they were around for Christmas. My brother was supposed to come home, but he can’t.”

“Oh. Um, w-would you, maybe…” Lance ventures, “wanna spend Christmas with my family? I’m sure they’d love to have you.”

The nauseous feeling Keith had the night before returns, the temperature rising in his cheeks and pulsating through his temples. He can hear his heart in his ears; for a split second he wonders if the other boy can hear it too. He slowly lets his fingers unstiffen. “Sure,” he blurts. “I’d love to.” He offers a weak smile to Lance, and Lance returns it as they pull into the coffee shop’s parking lot. They step outside, and Lance locks the car.

“Balmera Café,” Keith reads the sign above the door aloud to himself. Lance opens the door and lets Keith step into the wafting aroma of fresh coffee and a soft jingle overhead first with an “After you”. He blushes and twirls a curl of his hair. “Thanks.”

“What’re you looking at getting?” Lance says, perhaps a little too soon, as the pair walk up to the counter. “I’m gonna get a small vanilla capp,” the taller of the two announces, and Keith isn’t sure whether he was speaking to him or to the buff woman behind the counter, her name tag reading “Shay”. Lance looks down at Keith, who still hasn’t gotten used to the little shock that prickles his skin whenever he lays eyes on him. “U-Uh,” he stutters, “a small green tea, please.” The woman nods and turns around to prepare their drinks.

“I didn’t think you were much of a tea drinker,” Lance remarks as he begins taking off his navy blue peacoat and white scarf.

Keith cocks his head. “I guess you thought wrong,” he quips, a little wary of joking around with Lance. But the other boy doesn’t seem to mind, only smiling in response.

“That’ll be seven thirty-five,” she says, and he fumbles in his pocket for the money that will cover his cost of the purchase.

“Here,” he says, handing a ten-dollar bill in her direction, but Lance grasps his wrist, firmly, but gently. “No. _I_ invited you out, so _I’m_ paying for you.” Keith opens his mouth to protest, but Lance shushes him as he hands his own ten to the woman, making sure to keep Keith’s wrist in his clutch until two dollars and sixty-five cents are returned to him.

“I can pay for myself, Lance,” he says, and he doesn’t realize it until the words slip off his tongue, but it’s the first time he’s said the boy’s name aloud. He likes how it feels, rolling off his tongue and hissing through his teeth.

“Next time, I might let you,” Lance drawls as they take a seat by the window at a table for two, “but for the first time, absolutely not.” They put down their winter accessories on the sill.

Keith’s eyes crease in confusion. “Next time?” he parrots.

“I mean, like…” Lance takes a sip of his drink. “Would you want to come here with me again? I mean, like, it’s fine if you say no, but if—“

“Yeah, sure,” Keith responds. “And… to be completely honest with you, this…” he smiles at his thighs, taking a sudden interest in picking cat hair off his jeans, “is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

“Oh. Well,” Lance rests his hand on top of the pale hand that Keith didn’t realize he had left on the table, “I’m glad to hear that I could make you happy.”

The two boys sit in the coffee shop, talking about nothing and everything until the sun is well below the horizon, people coming and going like highway traffic. Lance makes quite a few jokes and slips a few pickup lines, much to Keith’s humor. There are sparks of conversation where Lance speaks so loudly that it gives Keith second-hand embarrassment. It all makes him feel like they’d been friends forever, and he wishes that they’d chatted over coffee like this instead of chatting over the answers to each other’s history assignments. But Lance drives Keith home, much to his disappointment.

“You keep yawning! You need sleep!” Lance squawks as they pull into the driveway of the Shirogane household.

“I’m sorry. I told you, I tried to sleep but I couldn’t!” Keith argues back. Although it isn’t a loud argument with yelling; it’s a quarrel between a boy who cares and a boy who desperately doesn’t want to leave him. Lance shakes his head, putting the car into park and turning the keys in the ignition.

“We can do something tomorrow, Keith,” Lance suggests, and Keith shivers at the way Lance says his name. “How about this? I’ll take you to see a movie tomorrow, and then you can come to my house and hang and then I’ll drive you home—I mean, it’s up to you.”

Keith’s face heats up at Lance’s proposition, idly wondering why Lance is fond of him in the back of his mind. His throat feels dry, and he croaks out, “Of course.”

Lance beams at him. “I’ll pick you up at seven, if that works,” he tells Keith, and the other boy isn’t sure whether he said it like a statement or a question, but he nods anyway. “Okay,” Keith complies, and he opens the door, greeted by a gust of cold air. “Bye, Lance,” he closes the door and jogs up to the porch, stays there until Lance’s hatchback is out of sight, and goes inside.

He waits half an hour to text Lance again, desperate for conversation but not desperately enough to put Lance’s life in danger on the road. He estimates when Lance gets home and picks up his phone.

_[Keith] What movie are we going to see?_

_[Lance] go to sLEE P_

_[Keith] IT’S ONLY LIKE 7_

_[Lance] STILL MAN_

_[Lance] YOU GOT UP AT 4AM_

_[Keith] I’M NOT TIRED_

_[Keith] …_

_[Keith] Hello?_

_[Keith] Okay, see you tomorrow :)_

Keith groans and falls asleep the instant his head hits the pillow.

-

“Your hair is frozen.” Lance tenderly touches a stiff lock of Keith’s jet-black mullet.

He swats his hand away, sighing. “I told you before, my cat chewed on the cord of my hairdryer.” Keith moves his feet around in the foot space of the passenger seat to stomp the snow off his boots and clutches the cold tendrils, hoping they will melt in the heat of his hand.

“And you decided not to wait inside?” Lance prods.

Keith pouts. “I really—“ He chokes on his own words. “I really wanted to see you again.” He begins a staring contest with his feet as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Oh,” Lance says, pulling the gear shift into reverse and backing out into the street. “Me too.” Keith can hear his voice shake.

His first instinct is to open the door and fling himself onto the cold, hard asphalt. He wants to avoid attachment, in case Lance doesn’t requite his feelings. He wants to find some reason to hate Lance, but alas, what is there to hate? And so he stays in the car.

“Really?” he finally replies.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” Lance tells him. “I mean, if you want to.”

Keith can feel the heat radiating off him, but it never manages to get through the thick layer of coat he’s wearing. It’s trapped inside him, and it makes him feel ill. “Of course,” he almost feels throttled by the friend zone. _Nothing more, nothing less, I guess,_ he adds in his head.

Lance turns on the radio to some Christmas station and starts singing along with the bits and pieces he knows of the song. Keith finds himself staring at the way Lance tries to hide the way he dances in his seat. He muffles a giggle with a gloved hand.

“This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special…” Lance trills, and once Keith realizes that he himself is singing along too, Lance smiles at him, and Keith wants nothing more than to kiss him right now, albeit he stops himself.

He almost has a heart attack when the driver of the hatchback quickly swerves right. The force of the turn causes Keith’s entire body to fall toward Lance. “Woah!” he exclaims, steadying himself by putting one hand on the center console and the other on the window. Half of him wants to let himself fall into Lance’s side, but the other half uses his hands to keep him stable. 

“Sorry about that,” Lance apologizes sheepishly and turns the car into the parking lot of a gas station. “I’m really bad at driving on icy roads. The theater isn’t far, if you want to walk the rest of the way?” 

“Please,” Keith says, sarcasm and fear still dripping in his tone. Lance laughs, not to add quite nervously, and pulls the keys out before stuffing them into his pocket.

“Ever been to Voltron?” Lance asks as they begin their walk. The sidewalks are quiet and a little slippery, a car passing by once in a while. 

Keith cocks his head. “If you mean Volltown, then yes, I have.”

Lance smiles. “I used to call Volltown Street here Voltron when I was younger,” he explains. “Guess I kept hearing people wrong.” He scratches at his forearm. “It’s stupid, I know.”

Keith decides to be bold and nudge him with his elbow. “Hey,” he reassures Lance, “I think it’s cool. It’s really creative.”

“Yeah?” Lance looks over at him. 

“Mhm.” Keith grins back.

They pass many a store before they arrive at the movie theater, neon lights and flashing bulbs still glowing despite it being Christmas Eve.

“What do you want to see?” Lance questions as they stare up at the movie titles spelled out with changeable black letters on the marquee sign.

Keith shrugs. “I don’t really care. Whatever’s fine with you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lance pump his fists. “Star Wars it is!”

“Man, you’re into that stuff?” Keith sighs, exasperated. “You’re geekier than I thought.”

Lance gives Keith a smug grin. “And you actually live under a _rock_ behind that yellow house with little evergreen trees by the road,” he fires back, quoting Keith’s text from two days prior. Lance looks at his watch. “Shit, it starts in ten minutes.” Before Keith can process what is happening, Lance has taken his hand and is dragging— no, _pulling_ him inside and to the ticket counter. He stumbled over his feet and his hat almost falls off, but he goes with it, never wanting Lance to let go.

-

The theater is empty, save for a few loners, couples, and a family of four, all scattered around the room. Keith and Lance shuffle into an unoccupied row at the back of the theater, arms full of popcorn, drinks, and candy.

“So do you know _anything_ about this?” Lance asks Keith as they sit down next to each other and begin taking their coats off. 

He shrugs, pulling his hat and gloves off before taking a few pieces of popcorn out of the bag and popping them into his mouth. “Bits n’ pieces,” he says, mouth full.

“So you’re not a complete heathen,” Lance mumbles, unfolding the chair next to him and shoving his jacket in it. 

“I guess,” Keith says, following suit. 

The movie begins, and Lance begins bouncing in his seat, emitting tiny, high-pitched squeals. “This is my third time seeing this!” Lance whispers excitedly.

Keith turns to look at him and quirks a brow. “Full offense, but what the actual _fuck_ is wrong with you?” he asks in between laughter. 

Lance decides to ignore him, and Keith snickers to himself, focusing on the screen.

Throughout the movie, he finds himself looking in Lance’s direction, whose eyes are trained on the screen like a dog whining for a treat. He thinks that maybe Lance shouldn’t have bought him a ticket if he was just going to stare at the cute boy next to him the entire time. His hand twitches, begging him to reach over to Lance’s and curl his fingers around it, but he resists the urge.

Keith doesn’t realize that he’s drifting to sleep until he feels an arm drape itself around his shoulder. He also doesn’t realize that the surface that his head is lolling toward is _Lance’s shoulder_ until the other boy wriggles it to half-hug him. He decides to take a risk and leans his head on Lance’s shoulder intentionally, letting go of all those voices in the back of his head saying that Lance doesn’t love him. To his surprise, Lance doesn’t shrug him off, only leaning the side of his head on top of Keith’s. Keith feels his soul ascend from his body.

A while later, the end credits begin rolling on the screen, and Lance tilts his head up. Keith feels the pressure leave the side of his head.

“S-So… did you enjoy it?” he asks. Keith can’t tell if he was referring to the movie or to the impromptu cuddle session. Lance doesn’t look so sure about what he’s saying either. 

“Yeah,” Keith lies about the movie and admits about their closeness.

They stand in the theater in silence, eating the rest of their food and downing their drinks until everyone else leaves and the lights turn on. It’s then that Lance turns to Keith with eyes full of longing, gently grasping Keith’s cold hands in his warm ones. “Please tell me you… you like me too,” Lance begs.

Keith’s world stops revolving. He lets something else—something that isn’t Keith—take him over. The voices return. “I like you,” the words he’s been waiting to say for ages finally spill out of him like an erupting volcano, and he doesn’t meet Lance’s eyes because _what if he was lying and what if nothing else matters anymore_ and everything inside of him just keeps exploding and ringing and sirens cry, telling him to _get out get out run for your life it isn’t safe here this isn’t safe this isn’t safe LANCE IS NOT SAFE._

But Keith realizes that he is his own hypocrite when Lance suddenly pulls him into his embrace, resting his chin on top of Keith’s head, his heartbeat pounding like the most amazing sound he’s ever heard.

He feels the safest he’s ever felt before in this moment.

-

Two friends walked into that theater with their hands balled up in the pockets of their coats, and now two boyfriends walk out of that same theater, but this time, their fingers are intertwined.

Keith can’t stop replaying the moment in his head and trying to stifle his laughter so Lance doesn’t think he’s completely insane. He’d never thought that he’d be lucky enough to dream of holding Lance’s hand, but it’s happening. It’s happening and he can hardly believe it. As they walk up the streets to Volltown Park, Keith has to keep adjusting his grip on Lance’s hand again whenever the feeling becomes numb. The street is completely silent except for their footsteps, the far-off wailing of a locomotive train, and Bing Crosby’s voice singing _Silver Bells._

“Wait, so…” Lance breaks the silence lingering between them. “How long have you liked me?”

The question catches Keith off guard, and he stops staring at his reflection in every store window they pass. “Umm, since I moved here? So, freshman year? We were in the same gym class for a little bit, and I thought you were kind of adorable, so… yeah. When did you start?” He scratches his neck with his free hand.

He can hear Lance clear his throat to his right. “Like halfway through sophomore year, I think? Some asshole pushed me down the stairs and my stuff went everywhere. Someone stopped to help me pick it up, and it just so happened to be you.” Lance smiles at the recollection of the memory. “Come to think of it, I never thanked you, so thanks,” he adds, squeezing Keith’s hand.

“It was nothing. Just an excuse to be near you,” Keith shrugs, looking from the dull colors hanging over the road to the snow caught floating down under the illumination cast by the lampposts to hide his blush.

Lance starts snickering out of nowhere as they walk across the icy cobblestone street and into the park. Keith tilts his head in puzzlement. “What?” he queries.

“You wore your hair up in a cute little ponytail that day,” he answers. “I thought it was pretty lovable though.” Keith feels his hand being squeezed again.

“Sure, sure, say whatever you wanna say,” he replies, rolling his eyes and running his fingers through the bangs that poke out from underneath his knit hat.

Lance leads them to a wooden park bench under a streetlight, lightly dusted with freshly fallen snow. Keith brushes it off for the both of them, hoping it doesn’t leave the bench damp. “Today’s been really fun,” Lance says as they both take a seat, pressed arm to arm, their laced fingers resting on Keith’s thigh. Keith notices how much more prominent Lance’s freckles are under the light.

“Mhm,” Keith hums in agreement, resting his head on Lance’s shoulder and closing his eyes. He inhales and exhales deeply. “Thank you.”

He feels Lance’s head on top of his, and suddenly it’s like they’re the only two people in the world. “I still can’t believe we weren’t together earlier on,” the taller boy mumbles, and Keith can feel his body congeal next to him. “Like maybe if we’d been put in more classes together, or if I were more confident enough so I could give you a note like that—”

Keith opens his eyes and fixes his position to lay his other hand on top of their twisted fingers. “It’s okay, Lance,” he reassures the other, brushing the back of his hand with his thumb. “What matters is that we’re together now.” He lifts his head up and looks at Lance with an awkward grin.

They sit there in silence until the wind starts to pick up and the snow starts falling faster, piling up around them on the bench. Lance glances at his watch. “It’s 10:30,” he says. “I can drop you off at home, if you want.” They both stand up and dust their pants off while Keith mumbles, “Sure.”

Lance extends an elbow toward Keith. “Shall we?” he proposes, and Keith beams at him, taking it and linking their arms as they amble out of the park and up Volltown Street.

They don’t speak on the ride back to Keith’s house, both relishing in each other’s company and the events of the past three-or-so hours. The quietude is filled with the buzz of the car’s engine and the dull sounds of Christmas music. To Keith’s surprise, Lance hurries to step out of the car and rushes over to the passenger side to open Keith’s door for him. “Welcome home, Keith,” Lance says. Keith takes Lance's hand and steps out of the car. Nothing, not even the frozen winter air, could wipe the stupid grin off his face as his now boyfriend leads him up onto the porch and to the front door.

“Thanks for taking me home,” he says, stomping the snow off his feet.

Lance tightens his grip on Keith’s hand for a moment. “No problem,” he answers, brushing his short fringe out of his eye.

“So… I guess I’ll be driving to your house at early-as-fuck o’clock?” Keith jokes, quoting Lance from the day before.

Lance shrugs. “Only if you really want to.” A particularly strong gust of air passes them by. “Depends if you want to come over when my siblings are opening their gifts, or if you’d like to come by at breakfast, or…”

“Call me when you wake up, I guess,” Keith suggests. “I’ll try to get there as early as possible.”

“R-Really?” Lance seems genuinely surprised. “Okay,” he says, pulling up his scarf to cover his face. “I’ll text you the address tomorrow.”

Keith looks at Lance and Lance looks back at him, neither not quite knowing what to say next. Lance pulls Keith into a hug, resting his chin on his head. Keith can hear and feel the soft drumming of Lance’s heart inside his chest. “Drive safe,” Keith says, as they pull away, holding hands. Lance nods, replying, “I will. Sweet dreams, love.”

Keith watches Lance step back into his car and drive until he’s out of sight and then goes inside, hoping with half of his heart Lance didn’t see the bundle of mistletoe dangling above their heads the entire time, and hoping that he did with the other.

-

Keith’s left ear is pierced with a loud ringing sound. He groggily rolls over, blinded by the light emanating from the screen of his phone. The top of the screen reads ‘6:12 am’. He answers it, putting it on speaker phone. “Hello?” Keith answers.

 _“Merry Christmas, Keith!”_ a voice that sounds akin to Lance’s comes through the speaker.

Keith yells in surprise. “Dude, how can you be this loud this early in the morning?!” he complains.

Lance grunts. _“It’s Christmas, mullet!”_ his voice crackles. _“Now hurry up and get out of bed! My sibling are bouncing off the walls waiting to meet you and it’s driving me insane.”_

“They want to meet me?” he parrots.

 _“Mhm,”_ Lance responds. _“I hope you don’t mind, but… I maaay have told my family that you’re my boyfriend.”_ Keith blushes, glad they aren’t speaking face-to-face. _“But don’t worry. They’re super supportive about it.”_

Keith rolls out of bed and onto the floor, dragging the sheets with him. “Okay, okay, I’ll be there soon,” he reassures the other boy with a sigh. _“Okay, see you soon. Be safe on your way. Bye.”_ Lance hangs up and the call ends with a beep. Keith receives a text from Lance shortly thereafter with a picture of his house and its address.

Despite his promises to come to Lance’s house as soon as he can, Keith takes his time showering, using up all the hot water he pleases, since his parents aren’t there to yell at him about it. Afterwards, he whips as much water as he can out of his hair, all the while glaring at Leo for her heinous crimes of destroying his hairdryer.

It’s six thirty when Keith manages his way out and locks the front door, arms full of small gifts for his boyfriend, sun shining but not so bright as to peek through the clouds, and red sports car covered in a thick blanket of snow. He dusts it off with his arm, the snowbrush long forgotten and buried somewhere in the depths of the cluttered garage.

Keith is mildly startled by the almost-empty roads that he takes as he navigates his way through the main roads, thinking there should be at least a bit more traffic on Christmas Day at six thirty in the morning. His shoulders untense with relief as the GPS on his phone leads him down a back road guarded by tall, coniferous trees. His phone instructs him to turn into a long, winding driveway lined with small, bare trees tangled in changing holiday lights. The house is two stories tall and made of brick, festooned with more lights and proudly wearing a wreath on the front door.

Keith parks the car and steps out, grinning when he sees Lance emerge from the front door in a tank top, plaid pants, and tangled hair that makes him dangerously attractive. “Keith!” he yells, running in only socks across the unshoveled driveway to meet him by the hood of his car and hug him. “Hey,” he says into the other’s chest. “Merry Christmas.”

After jumping up and down on the concrete excitedly and having to hold onto Keith for balance after almost slipping, Lance takes the gifts and Keith’s backpack from his car and they walk into the house. Who he assumes to be Lance’s parents are waiting at the door for them.

“Oh, this must be Keith!” a stout woman with curly brown hair and a cast on her arm exclaims, voice thick with a Spanish accent.

“Hello, Mrs. McClain, Mr. McClain,” Keith says nervously, shaking hands with each as he utters their names respectively.

“Lance has told us a _lot_ about you,” Mr. McClain states, and Keith notices that he has the same blue eyes and tall stature as Lance. “Last night he came home all giddy and telling us about your date… Wouldn’t even wash his hands.”

 _“Dad,”_ Lance says with gritted teeth, but Keith can tell he isn’t really angry because he’s smiling, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“Anyway—” Mrs. McClain begins to speak again, taking the presents out of her son’s hands, but one of Lance’s younger siblings comes running around the corner and attaches herself onto her father’s leg. “Santa came last night!” she yells as Mr. McClain picks her up and twirls her around, the hem of her frilly pink nightgown gliding through the air. Keith can’t help but smile at the interaction.

“I wanna open presents!” shouts another voice, which Keith sees belongs to a little boy, younger than that of his sister, sporting a black onesie speckled with dinosaurs of all species and colors. His eyes lock with Keith’s face immediately brightening with awareness. “Are you Lance’s boyfriend?” he asks innocently.

“Jacob, be quiet—” Lance blurts at the same time Keith answers, “Yeah.” Keith can feel him tense up beside him as a blush creeps across his face. His sister realizes it too and starts chanting, “Lance has a boyfriend! Lance has a boyfriend!”

“Sophia! _¡Se una buena niña!”_ Lance’s mom scolds the girl. Mr. McClain puts her down, and she starts playing with one of her own thick brown braids. “ _Lo siento,_ Mamá,” she says.

Mrs. McClain smiles at her. “It’s okay. Are you ready to open presents?” she asks. Lance’s siblings, whom Keith assumes are named Jacob and Sophia, run back around the corner. Their parents follow, and after they disappear, Lance annoyedly runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “I’m really sorry if that made you uncomfortable. My siblings can be really frustrating sometimes,” he apologizes.

Keith leans his head on Lance’s bicep. “It’s okay,” he heartens Lance as they walk into the family room. Keith feels four new pairs of eyes on him, and suddenly he wishes he could shrink away into a ball of nothing. Lance walks away to join his siblings under the tree, the ones Keith met, plus two identical boys, an adolescent girl, and a small baby cuddled in Mrs. McClain’s arms.

“I like your sweater,” a woman—Lance’s older sister, Keith guesses—comments and sits down next to him, picking a fuzz off her own sleeve. Her wavy dark green hair sweeps across her shoulders as she turns her head.

Keith looks down at his chest, wearing a black sweater with rainbow Fair Isle patterns all over. “Thanks,” he says. “My name is Keith, if you didn’t know, which I seriously doubt.”

“So I’ve heard. Seems like you’ve become a celebrity overnight here,” she says in amusement. “I’m Erica, but you can call me The Gay Cousin.” She holds out her hand for him to shake. “Nice to meet you,” he says, taking it.

“Get ready, Keith,” Erica’s tone suddenly becomes dark and ominous with satire. “We’re having company over all day. It’s gonna be fuckin’ _wild_.”

“Erica!” Mr. McClain scowls at her. “Language.”

Her blue eyes grow wide. “Sorry, Uncle Bill.” She turns back to Keith, throwing her hands up in the air.

Keith jumps and emits a small sound of fright when Lance suddenly sits down on his other side and greets, “Hey.”

“Jesus, you scared me,” he clutches his chest to calm his heart.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lance makes a quick apology and reposes his chin on Keith’s shoulder, softly kissing his cheek. His purple eyes broaden and his pale cheeks redden. Did Lance just do what Keith thought he did?

“Lance,” Keith addresses, “did you… just—“

“That’s gay,” Erica juts in.

Keith puts on a smug smile and glances at her. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, I did,” comes his boyfriend’s late response. “Was it okay with you?”

“Oh, fine, fine,” he answers, curling his arm to rest his hand on Lance’s head.

They watch the smaller kids tear open their gifts. Keith stands up and walks over to the tree followed by Lance, carefully placing his feet on the ground so as to avoid the mounds of wrapping paper.

Keith’s gifts for Lance are wrapped in brown paper and tied neatly with twine. “Here,” Keith hands them to Lance as they take a seat on the floor near the tree.

“Sweet!” he exclaims, untying the string and taking the paper off one box. Upon opening it, his face lights up when he sees that it’s a stuffed shark. “How’d you know I liked sharks?!”

Keith snorts. “You mentioned it offhand at the coffee shop.”

“Did I?” he questions, picking up the other box and opening it. “What’s this?” Lance asks, holding up a small painted canvas. “This is…”

“Varadero Beach,” Keith finishes for him. “My parents sent me pictures, and I wanted to paint one because it was so pretty.”

“Doesn’t the water look so unnaturally blue? And the sand is so white it doesn’t look real,” Lance talks to himself as he runs his fingers across the image. “It’s beautiful. Thank you so much, Keith,” he says, awkwardly leaning forward to hug Keith over his crossed legs.

Lance puts his gifts beside him and slides three shiny red boxes across the rug. Keith carefully opens one of them, revealing a mediocrely sized watercolor palette. “How’d you know I needed new watercolors?” he asks.

The tan boy shrugs. “I didn’t,” he admits. “But when I heard you talk about your teen angst story with your parents wanting you to become a doctor like the rest of your family, I thought you’d like them.” Keith beams at him, laughing.

The next box holds a stuffed hippo. “Oh yeah, I _did_ tell you about my favorite animal.”

“You got a hippopotamus for Christmas,” Lance laughs, singing the melody of the holiday song.

“Nice one.”

A hairdryer comes out of the last box. “Gee, thanks. How’d you know I needed this?” Keith tries to deadpan and keep his face straight, but he can’t help but curve his lips up. “Thank you so much, Lance.” He makes a risky move and kisses Lance’s cheek. It’s the other boy’s turn to turn red, but he smiles and clasps his hands over Keith’s. “I love you, Keith,” he says. _“Feliz Navidad.”_

-

After a huge breakfast of everything imaginable cooked by Mr. and Mrs. McClain, more of his extended family arrives, and Keith has to keep going through the cycle of being introduced as Lance’s boyfriend.

If Keith wasn’t surprised by anything inside Lance’s house, then he was completely astounded to see that behind it, there was a slope leading steeply down to a small clearing. Everyone files outside, the little children carrying snow tubes and sleds.

“Do you want to go outside?” Lance asks him as he sets the plush shark and the canvas on his nightstand. Lance’s room is small, walls painted stark white, floor wooden. A queen-sized bed with blue covers sits in the corner near the window. A table and chair cluttered with schoolwork sits at the foot of it. A dresser is pressed up to the other wall, right next to a shelf crammed with books.

“Sure, I’d love to,” Keith answers, looking out the window. Lance takes his hand, on on their way to the hall, Keith asks, “Who slept there?”, pointing at a mound of blankets.

“Erica did; I offered up my room when I heard she was staying for Christmas.” Lance grins. “She’s been like my best friend for so long, and she was the one who inspired me to come out to my family.” The brunette yawns.

Keith and Lance go down the stairs and put on their coats. Keith sighs. “How much snow are we gonna get?” he wonders aloud as he sees that little flakes start to fall down. Lance shrugs and opens the back door, where the the sun reflects off the snow and temporarily blinds Keith.

He stands around uneasily, gloved fingers laced in Lance’s, as he mingles with his family. The taller of the two explains how they got together to a middle-aged woman with graying hair, Keith adding in small details that Lance misses here and there.

He starts to notice that Keith is awkwardly looking around as they continue talking. “Oh, uh, are you cold? Do you want to go inside?” Lance asks, looking at him concernedly.

“N-No, I’m fine,” Keith replies, doing his best to not make him worry. “Just a little chilly.”

Lance pulls Keith’s beanie over his ears and pulls the hood of his parka up over it. “Thanks,” Keith smiles, although he says it like a question rather than a statement.

“No prob,” Lance’s lips curve up as he winks. “Do you wanna try sledding?”

Keith looks over at the hill. “Sure,” he answers, sounding hesitant. “I haven’t done it since I was, like, eight?”

“Damn,” Lance says in surprise, sitting in a free sled on the ground and keeping it still by spreading his palms out outside of it. Keith sits down in between his legs, pushing his feet up against the front. “Ready?” he can hear Lance ask from behind him. He nods, and the other boy pushes off, curling his arms around Keith’s torso afterward.

Keith has to close his eyes as the wind and snow flies into his face. Lance lets out a holler, which causes Keith to laugh. He feels Lance sink his chin on his shoulder and smiles.

Neither of them realize that they’re in midair and Lance’s cousins built a small ramp of snow until they land on the ground and limply roll to the bottom of the clearing, both chuckling hysterically and clutching their stomachs. Keith opens his eyes and looks over at his boyfriend, snowflakes contrasting against his brown hair and balancing on his eyelashes. He stares up into the sky, trees bordering his vision. Lance takes his hand and squeezes it, commenting, “Well, that was fun.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, looking up at the summit of the hill. “It looks like everyone’s going back inside,” he says as everyone at the top of the hill crowds around the back door.

Lance stands, helping him up. “Do you wanna go inside, or stay out here a bit longer?” he asks.

Keith picks up the sled and tucks it under his arm. “Inside,” he answers shortly, and they both trudge up the slope. Erica sees them and waits for them at the top, green hair blowing in the wind and a mug in her hand.

She smirks as they reach the top. “That was—”

“Pretty gay,” Lance finishes for her. She chuckles, and the trio walks indoors.

-

The middle of the day drags on uneventfully, save for the shouting of obnoxious children and more delicious food. Keith, Lance, and Erica walk downstairs when Sophia tells them to come downstairs by demand of her mom, chest puffed up proudly like she’d won an award for tattling on her sibling.

“She’s been a stick up my ass since I walked through the front door,” Erica mumbles, rubbing her eye. “Asked me about my hair and tattoos and begged me to let her sit on my fucking lap. How do you do it?” she sighs, looking at Lance.

He shrugs. “Luck?” he suggests, throwing a palm up.

“LAAAAANCE!” a child’s earsplitting voice screeches as they round a corner, forced against the wall as three of the small cousins run past them, playing tag or a game of the like.

“Forced into it?” Erica proposes a new phase, mimicking Lance’s hand gestures.

“They just haven’t seen you in so long,” Keith adds to the discussion warily. “Assuming you’ve been away at college for some time.”

She nods and sniffs the air. “Aunt Tia and Uncle Bill make some kickass Christmas food,” Erica remarks, changing the subject. “But, they told me I could leave and hang with some of my buddies.” She sweeps her hair into a high ponytail and yawns. “Later!”

“You’re not staying for dinner?” Lance exclaims as Erica grabs the handle of the front door. She shakes her head.

He groans. “Okay. See you later, I guess,” Lance fares her well before she steps outside and closes the door.

“LANCE!” comes Mrs. McClain’s voice over the chaos of the kitchen.

“COMING!” he yells back, walking into the kitchen quickly. Keith trails behind him, nearly bumping into him when he stops at the end of a line abruptly.

“Warn a guy!” Keith whisper-shouts.

“Sorry!” Lance whisper-shouts back.

They go through the buffet Lance’s parents prepared, Keith loading turkey, mashed potatoes, and stuffing onto his plate. There’s a bench wide enough for two people at the table for the older kids, including the older of Lance’s sisters for earlier, a girl, and a boy, both of whom seem to be cousins. Light from their phones reflects off their skin, and they don’t seem to notice that Keith and Lance sit down.

“Your mom’s mashed potatoes are amazing,” Keith remarks, eating a forkful of food.

 _“All_ of my mamá’s food is amazing! What the hell?” Lance agrees.

They eat their dinner quietly, commenting on something random occasionally, but mostly eavesdropping the adult conversations. Lance takes a sip of water. Keith leans back on the wall behind the bench and burps. “‘Scuse me,” he apologizes.

His boyfriend giggles. “That was cute,” he states, setting his cup down.

He punches Lance’s shoulder lightly. “Shut up!” Keith cries, shamefaced.

Lance keeps laughing. “After dinner, we usually play a bunch of little games that mostly cater to the little kids, so if you wanna go upstairs or drive around for a bit, I wouldn’t be against that,” he explains.

“Alright.” Keith yawns and reaches his arms up to the ceiling. “I’m kind of tired, actually.”

Lance pouts. “But you’re _always_ tired!” he complains.

“I’m sorry!” Keith pleads. “I’m gonna go home. I feel like I’m gonna fall asleep.”

The other boy purses his lips. “‘Kay, fine,” he aquiesces. “I’ll drive you in my car since I need to get out for a little bit. You can come get your car tomorrow, since you’re kind of stuck, if you’d like.” Lance stands and takes the silverware and plates for the both of them, placing them in the sink and then letting his mother hug him as he says goodbye. He comes back to where Keith is waiting, taking his hand and turning to leave the house.

The snow crunches beneath their feet as they weave between cars. It almost feels like a part of Keith detaches from him when they turn separate ways and get in the all-too familiar blue hatchback that smells like peach and it smells like _him._ Keith almost desires to suffocate in it, wanting to breathe it, wishing he didn’t need oxygen to live.

Unlike every other joyride they’d taken together, the radio doesn’t speak. The car stays quiet. It’s not a bad, awkward quiet; it’s a good, comfortable quiet. Keith stares out the window, looking at the scenery, passing his eyes by the theater where they had found each other. It all feels like a dream to him. It feels like a small five minutes of his life is erased along with the silence when Lance pulls into Keith’s driveway and the hum of the car is gone. The tan boy walks Keith to his door, the wind tousling their hair gently.

“Thanks for inviting me. I had a great time,” Keith says, eyes drooping but still beaming.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Lance swallows. “So, when will I be seeing you next?”

Keith shrugs. “Say, tomorrow?” he suggests.

“Works for me,” the other agrees.

He looks up, into Lance’s eyes. “Also, y’know Pidge? She’s hosting a party at the end of the month, and she said that if I don’t bring you, she’s going to steal my cat and spray-paint my car, so…” he stops, hoping Lance will get the message.

“Yeah, sure,” he answers. “I got nothing going on, just another family party that may be the death of me.”

“Okay, then… I guess I’ll see you soon,” Keith bids farewell, opening the front door and stepping inside.

He can hear Lance clear his throat from behind him. “Hey, Keith,” he says, causing him to shudder when he hears his name. He turns around, confused.

Lance looks up. “Uh, did you think that, um, that I didn’t see that yesterday?” he asks, sounding anxious.

Keith looks up too.

…

_Oh._

Keith stays silent, staring at the mistletoe because he’s too red-faced to look at Lance. “Y-Yeah, I thought you didn’t,” he chokes out finally.

Out of his peripherals, he can see Lance rub the nape of his neck and his figure swaying. “So, would you mind if I… maybe… kissed you?”

Keith can hear his heart in his ears; it’s switched spots with his brain. All thinking pushed aside, he can still let his head make a choice.

“No,” Keith says, like he desperately needs to spit it out, like his life depends on telling Lance. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Lance’s eyes widen. “Okay.” He paces closer to Keith, and suddenly there’s no oxygen, only peach and only him. And it goes all too fast, Lance’s fingers brushing his ears and Lance’s thumbs brushing over his cheekbones and Lance’s hair skimming across his forehead—

—and Lance’s lips on his own lips.

It’s three seconds of shivering in color, numbness and warmth. Keith cups Lance’s cheeks in his own hands. He breaks them apart and pieces them back together at their foreheads.

“That was… good, right?” Lance asks, still struggling to catch his breath.

Keith snorts. “What, was that your first kiss?” he teases.

“N-No, of course not, heh,” Lance sputters.

“Aw,” Keith taunts, weaving his fingers through the other boy’s hair, “the heartthrob of Volltown High just had his first kiss!”

Before he knows it, he’s pulled in for another quick peck. “And his second,” he smirks. “Not like it wasn’t your first too, Mr. I-Cry-Over-MCR-Every-Night.”

“You’re insufferable.” Keith rests the side of his head on Lance’s shoulder and wraps his arms around his torso, inhaling his scent.

Lance hugs him back. “Insufferably in love with you,” he elucidates.

“Mhm,” Keith hums, closing his eyes as a gentle breeze puffs past them.

Time seems to tick by a second slower with every beat of Lance’s heart.

Keith pulls away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” he asks.

“Yeah,” comes the reply. “I love you.”

Keith grins up at his boyfriend in all of his perfection and splendor. “I love you too,” he says before Lance turns away and walks back to his car. He watches him drive off until he can no longer see red tail lights. Leo brushes up against his calves and meows. He closes the door and chuckles, flouncing toward his bedroom. He takes a quick shower, letting everything from that day sink in.

It isn’t long before he dozes off under the covers, the day’s events replaying in his head and letting him fall asleep with a smile on his face.

-

Keith is in the middle of reliving their first kiss when he can feel Leo move against his arms, aroused by the sound of a doorbell. The mailman? His parents? The annoying little girl that lives down the street? He wants to stall for time and wait until the person gives up and leaves, and then he realizes that that person must be Lance.

He begins to panic, untangling his messy black hair with his fingers. “Gimme one sec!” he yells with a rasp in his voice, hoping his message is loud enough for Lance to hear. Keith flings the covers off his body and rushes to the bathroom, hastily brushing his teeth and washing his face. He can hear the doorbell once again and he sighs, sluggishly walking out and to the door.

Lance is way too giddy and awake for Keith’s liking. He looks up at Lance, unamused. He shudders when the cold makes contact with his bare arms and feet. “Have you looked at a clock today, dear?” Keith deadpans.

The other boy shrugs. “Ah, sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly. “I just really wanted to take you someplace special today.”

Keith perks up. “Where?” he asks, rubbing his arms.

Lance shrugs, putting his hands up for a dramatic effect. “Can’t tell you that unless you get ready to go,” he sighs.

“Come inside, asshole,” Keith smiles, stepping back to let Lance in. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“Nah,” comes the response. Lance holds a cup out to Keith. “Are you? I got you a green tea.”

His eyes gape at the cup as he takes it out of Lance’s hands. “You’re too sweet, Lance,” he compliments before he takes a sip. “I’ll be right back,” he reassures, disappearing into his room. Keith sets the cup of tea on his desk as he fishes through his closet for clean clothes. He pulls on a red cable-knit sweater, black jeans, and a pair of mismatching holiday socks. He puts his phone into the pocket of his parka before he slides his arms though the sleeves.

“I’m ready!” he calls to Lance, picking the tea up and meeting with Lance at the front door. Lance takes his hand and kisses his forehead, causing Keith’s cheeks to heat up.

Lance’s car has become run-of-the-mill to Keith; it feels like it was always his car and like Lance keeps on driving it for him. He buckles in and sets the cup into the cupholder. “Where is this “special” place?” Keith repeats, making air quotes with his middle and index fingers.

“I can’t tell you!” Lance exclaims as they drive onto the main road. “You have to be patient, _mi amor._ ”

Keith grunts and stares out the window. A Christmas song drones on in the hatchback, the spirit of Christmas gone because of holidays past.

His brows furrow when Lance turns onto his street, but he stays silent. They drive past his house, Keith’s car covered in a light layer of snow. He shoots Lance a quizzical look, but Lance doesn’t speak as they ascend the winding gray road.

They stop when it the pavement does, brought to a standstill by bare trees decorated with snowflakes. Lance gets out of the car, and Keith gets the hint to do so too. He feels as if Lance’s hands have become magnetized to his, because their fingers are laced merely seconds later.

They trudge through the snow, and a little ways away from the car is quite possibly even more beautiful than Varadero Beach: the entirety of Volltown, covered in lights and white powder. Houses and stores, trees and parks. He’s dumbfounded that he’s never known about this.

Keith forgets how to breathe. “Wow,” he gasps, instinctively fumbling for his phone to take a picture. “This is… just wow. It’s so amazing.” He clicks a few photos and smiles. “Thank you for taking me here.”

Lance beams. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, although it sounds like he’s talking to himself. “It’s also super gorgeous in the fall, with the trees and all.” Keith’s hand gets squeezed. “But that’s not all,” he adds. “Follow me.”

Keith doesn’t question Lance’s motives as they walk into the woods that ended the road. It’s dark; the cloudy gray heavens counterbalances the absence of the foliage. The land starts to slope downward. Keith takes a candid photo of Lance when he’s not looking, but the sound goes off. Lance’s head whips around to see Keith, humiliated. “Heh…” he tries to break the silence.

“It’s fine,” Lance grins smugly. “I know I’m too handsome for the paparazzi to resist.”

Keith reciprocates the smirk and quirks an eyebrow. “You better believe it, hotshot.”

“Here it is,” Lance says, gesturing to the scene in front of them. Keith gasps.

A small pond lays frozen in the middle of the woods. The partially hidden sun reflects off the ice, causing it to shimmer and sparkle. Squiggling lines, which Keith guesses can only be skate marks, decorate the surface in a curlicue kind of pattern.

“It’s so pretty,” Keith comments, taking another picture. “Do you skate on it?”

Lance shakes his head. “My siblings do, meanwhile I can’t skate for my life,” he explains.

Keith’s hands descend into his pockets. “Maybe… someday I could teach you?” he suggests.

“That’d be nice,” the other boy shoves his hands in his pockets as well. “Where’d you learn?”

Keith looks up to the sky. “My brother taught me, actually,” he answers. “Back at our old house, we lived near a skating rink. “My brother—his name is Takashi, but everyone calls him Shiro—started going there in his free time and figured it out on his own. He kept begging me to come skate with him, so eventually, I gave in and, well, that’s that.”

“Wow,” Lance sounds genuinely astonished. “I can’t believe he learned on his own. It took my siblings so long and me even longer to convince my parents that skating wasn’t for me. But if you want to teach me, I won’t say no.” Keith can hear Lance exhale nasally. “But not for a bit.”

Keith cocks his head. “Hm? Why?”

“My family made last-minute plans to visit Erica’s family, so we’re roadtripping up to the mountains tomorrow,” Lance explains with a frown on his lips. “I won’t be back until the thirtieth and there’s really bad service up there, so I might not be able to talk to you for a few days…”

“Oh,” says Keith simply.

“Don’t worry though, love,” Lance begins a reassurance. “There’s still New Year’s Eve, right?” He advances toward Keith and tucks a stray strand of black hair behind his ear.

“Yeah, I know. I just… I like being around you, is all.” Keith presses up on his tiptoes and rests his arms around Lance’s shoulders, whose arms clasp the the small of Keith’s back, pulling him ever so closer.

And just like the previous night, Keith’s lips are back on Lance’s in the middle of the forest.

Keith’s lips are back on Lance’s at the edge of the world that overlooks the town, their town.

Keith’s lips are back on Lance’s when they sit back into Lance’s car, only witnessed by a cup of cold green tea.

Keith’s lips are back on Lance’s when they return to Lance’s front porch and run up the stairs, giggling madly like fools in love.

Keith’s lips are back on Lance’s when he’s pinned against Lance’s wall with his cheeks in Lance’s hands and it’s all Lance.

Keith’s lips are back on Lance’s when they’re snuggled together on his bed, half-asleep.

Keith’s lips are back on Lance’s right before Keith walks out to his car and drives away from home, away from Lance.

-

Keith barely leaves his house for the next few days. He divides his time between baking food, skating on the frozen pond by Lance’s house, and painting the candid that he took of him on a canvas. He wonders what Lance is doing up in the mountains, and if he’s wondering what Keith is doing too. He misses waking up to a doorbell each morning and opening it to see Lance. He is just getting accustomed to the tranquility when someone comes to the door on New Year’s Eve, around eight thirty at night.

Keith looks up from his phone and out the front window. It’s Lance, waving at him. Keith grins widely and jogs to the door.

“Welcome back, Lance!” Keith exclaims, hugging him when he steps inside. Their embrace is warm, and they sway from foot to foot quietly.

“Hey, man,” Lance whispers before kissing him tenderly. “Ready to go to the party?”

“You’re asking me that before I ask you about your vacation?” Keith staggers. “How was it? What’d you do?”

Lance’s fingers run from Keith’s elbows and down to his, and he laces them together. “Cold, just freezing cold,” he says. “I just stayed inside the cabin mostly, reading by the fireplace and whatnot. I got dragged out to go ice-fishing by Erica, which fucking sucked, by the way.”

“Sounds fun,” Keith lies playfully. “I baked a ton of food and went skating on your pond,” he says, purposefully leaving out his painting of Lance. “It’s so quiet and peaceful there.”

Lance grimaces. “Weeeell, technically it isn’t my family’s; it belongs to a nice old lady that lives in the last house on the road, a good family friend of ours.”

“Oh, cool,” Keith says, still looking up at Lance’s eyes. “You should’ve told me so I could’ve asked her.”

“She doesn’t mind who skates on her pond, so it’s fine,” Lance tells him. “Are you ready to go now?”

“Yeah, but why did _you_ pick _me_ up? You have no idea where Pidge lives!” Keith exclaims.

Lance scratches his arm and looks around. “Well, Pidge got my number somehow and texted me her address, so…” he trails off.

“Figures,” Keith affirms. “She likes coding and hacking and lots of techy nerd computer stuff.”

The other boy turns toward the door. “So who else is gonna be there? Do you know?”

Keith shrugs and steps off the porch. “I dunno. I don’t know if you know Allura Alfor but she’s going, Nyma and Rolo Alino, Pidge’s brother Matt, Shay from the coffee shop… yeah. Also I think your buddy Hunk is gonna be there, since he and Pidge are in tech class together.”

“Oh, fun,” the sarcasm practically slides off his tongue as he takes his place in the car.

“So are your parents coming back tomorrow?” Lance asks, shifting the gear and backing out of the driveway.

“Who knows?” Keith mumbles. “I’ve spent New Year’s at Pidge’s ever since I moved here.”

“Oh, cool,” the other says, turning up the heat.

The car is quiet for the entire trip, save for Lance’s phone telling him what roads to drive on and where to turn. Keith could’ve told him where Pidge lived since she was only five minutes away, but he didn’t want to neglect Lance’s effort. Neither of them are incredibly chatty, but they always seem to make up for the lack of conversation with physical touch.

“You have arrived,” says the voice of Lance’s phone monotonously.

“Here already?” Lance questions to himself.

Keith says, “Yeah, Pidge lives really close to here.”  
He shuts the door to the car and walks up to Pidge’s door, hand in Lance’s.

“Whaddup, Edgy Boy,” Pidge says as she opens the front door, bedazzled in New Year’s decorations. “Hey, Lance,” she adds.

“Uh, hey,” Lance greets, not sure of anything else to say. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem,” she says, bouncing up and down on her toes and stepping aside to let them in. “I’ll take your coats n’ shit.”

“Katie Holt! Watch your mouth!” a voice, presumably Pidge’s mom, resounds from the kitchen.

“Sorry!” she yells back, stuffing her arms with jackets and putting them on hangars.

Keith and Lance take their shoes off and put them with everyone else’s. “Sorry about her,” Keith apologizes. “She gets a little tipsy off of caffeine every time I come over. And she usually calls me Edgy McEdgerson. I doubt she knows my real name, actually.”

“It’s fine,” Lance says before looking past him. “Hey, Hunk!”

“Hey, Lance!” he shouts and waves back. “Good to see you. Ah, this must be Keith! Nice to meet you, bro.” Hunk pats Keith’s shoulder. “I’m Hunk.”

“Merry Chrysler!” Pidge yells, sliding back into the foyer with the power of socks and hardwood floors. “Oh, and everyone else is just chilling in the living room and watching TV and playing cards, so do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Keith says, although it’s really what they do every year. He and Lance walk into the living room, and everyone looks up from their activities to question Lance’s presence.

“Keith!” Matt shouts.

“Hey, Matt,” he says, slightly uncomfortable. He can sense Lance’s embarrassment as well as his. “Uh, hey guys, so this is my boyfriend, Lance,” Keith introduces him nervously. Lance waves and grins to the rest of the party.

“Hi, Lance,” everyone drones in unison. They make room for the two newcomers on the couch, and they sit.

“Hi,” Lance replies shortly.

“Want anything?” Rolo asks, holding up two two-liter bottles of soda in his hands.

“No thanks,” both boys say in unison, and as soon as they realize it, they giggle like children. Their attention turns to the TV, which is playing a New Year’s Eve celebration.

Three hours pass by like nothing, and Keith is having the time of his life. He and Lance exchange secret kisses when no one is looking. They get dealt in a few rounds of cards and devour Mrs. Holt’s holiday treats. Everyone is laughing and having a good time. Lance fits right in, much to Keith’s surprise and enjoyment. There’s no alcohol, no locked bedroom doors, just good friendship. It makes Keith feel warm and comfortable, especially when he tucks his knees underneath him and wraps his arms around Lance’s stomach. Lance always puts his palms on top of his and sighs blissfully when Keith rests his chin on his shoulder.

The clock reads eleven fifty-three, and Keith’s head is spinning. He can’t wait to ring in the new year, knowing Lance is his and his alone. But he’s afraid. Afraid he isn’t.  
Someone goes to the bathroom on the first floor, so Keith climbs up the stairs and shuts himself into the bathroom there, glaring into his reflection in the mirror, scraping his nails on the granite counter. He doesn’t know what he’s afraid of.

Lance must have seemed to take too long for Keith’s liking, and it startles him when he gently raps on the door. “Keith? You okay, love?” he asks, and Keith can hear the muffled desperation in his voice.

Keith opens the door, faced with a concerned Lance. “Yeah. Just intrusive thoughts is all,” he responds promptly.

“Are you comfortable with telling me?” Lance’s voice lowers down a few decibels.

Before Keith can formulate a reply, he realizes that it’s eleven fifty-nine and that everyone downstairs is chanting together, counting down the last five seconds of the year and that he’s alone with Lance and that Lance is alone with him and he can’t think so he lets his hands do what they want and they grab Lance by his shirt and he lets his lips do what they want and they find Lance’s and he kisses Lance so hard he can feel them both go blind.

He runs his fingers through Lance’s hair, feeling Lance. Because he can’t see Lance. Because there is white noise in his eyes. Their teeth clack, but neither of them seem to care.

By the time Keith can see again, Lance’s hair is messier than Keith’s room and they’re breathing deeper than the blue in Lance’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Keith pants. “I just did.”

“God, I love you more than anything,” Lance breathes, touching their foreheads, not caring if everyone downstairs hears them or even if the entirety of their town hears them. All Keith cares about in that midnight moment, is Lance McClain, only peach and only him.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaAH this was so much fun to write!! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! have a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrate :)
> 
> begun 11/27/17 15:17  
> ended 12/24/17 23:10


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